


Letters From America

by pookiestheone



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 04:39:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pookiestheone/pseuds/pookiestheone





	1. Chapter 1

Everyone stood as Mr. Carson entered the servants' hall. He waved in their general direction indicating they were to sit, while he continued to sort through the mail.

"Ah, Daisy, one for you. Is that Alfred's hand?"

She practically beamed back at him. "Yes, Mr. Carson. He's been keeping me up to date. He's doing ever so well."

"Of course he is," Jimmy muttered under his breath.

"Pardon, James?" Mr Carson asked, not raising his eyes from the letters.

"Anything for me, Mr. Carson?"

"No, James. You don't get many letters, do you?"

Jimmy's mouth opened in surprise. _You old bastard, how dare you ..._

"Mr. Barrow, on the other hand," Mr Carson continued, sure that he had put Jimmy in his place, "is quite popular recently. Two more letters from America today. It would appear you made some friends," he noted as he handed the letters over.

From the other side of the table, John Bates snorted scornfully.

"Mr. Bates, are you getting a cold?" Jimmy sounded concerned. "Perhaps you should take some time off to rest. Colds can be particularly nasty for a man of your age." Thomas didn't raise his head from the page he was reading, but from the corner of his eye Jimmy saw him smirk. He leant back in his chair and crossed his arms, gratified because he felt that he had been able to recover from Carson's remark by disparaging someone else. And more importantly, that Thomas had obviously appreciated his effort.

Jimmy's self-satisfaction didn't last long. _Carson's right. He is getting a lot of letters. I wonder who from?_ Under the pretense of stretching, Jimmy leant back further in his chair and tried to get a look at the envelope that Thomas had set on the table, but he couldn't make out anything other than scribbles and the stamp. _Bugger._ He pushed back and stood.

"Care to join me for a cigarette, Mr. Barrow?"

Thomas looked up. "Yes, good idea before the day gets away from us." He put the letter back in its envelope and slid both it and the unopened one into his jacket pocket.

"Don't be long, Mr. Barrow," Mr. Carson warned. "I want you to do the wine inventory this morning."

"Of course, Mr. Carson," Thomas replied as he followed Jimmy out of the hall. "Just what I need," he complained as he caught up to Jimmy, "an hour or so in a dark cellar, straining my eyes."

As they entered the yard, Jimmy reached back over his shoulder handing him a cigarette.

"The trials of being an under-butler, Mr. Barrow. Would you like to switch places with me and polish the silverware instead?"

His weak joke was rewarded with a laugh.

"I don't think so. It's something you're so good at I couldn't hope to compete." He held the lighter out to Jimmy first then lit his own cigarette.

They stood smoking for a minute, not speaking until Jimmy began awkwardly.

"You know, Mr. Barrow, you haven't told me much about America other than it was interesting and modern."

"No? Really?"

"Yes, I sort of expected you would have a few stories to share. Adventures, maybe."

Thomas exhaled a haze of smoke, staring into the distance as it dissolved.

"His Lordship kept me busy." He took another deep drag. "But I did manage to have some fun. Washington was a bit boring, but we spent time in New York. Now, that's quite the city."

Jimmy turned toward him, leaning his shoulder against the wall. "Is that where you made your friends then?"

"Only one really. I met him at one of the speakeasies."

"Oh?" Despite himself, Jimmy felt a prickle of jealousy. _Now that's ridiculous. He can have friends other than me. Besides, this man's thousands of miles away and I'm here._

"He took me to a few places, showed me the town, so to speak. We had some good times." He dropped the butt of his cigarette, grinding it out with his heel. "Maybe I'll tell you more later if you like, but now we've got to go before Mr. Carson comes looking for us."

"How about tonight? I'll come to your room." Thomas's puzzled look told Jimmy he had seemed too anxious. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat. "Or another night."

"No, tonight by all means. It's just ..."

"Just what?"

It was Thomas's turn to be uncomfortable. "I really didn't think you'd be interested in this type of thing. I mean my kind of ... people.

"Well, I'm your friend, right. I just want to know what you got up to." Jimmy reddened. "That didn't exactly come out he way I wanted. I ...uh, don't want those details. _Shut up, Kent, you're digging the hole deeper._ I mean I told you I was bored here and you obviously weren't, so ..." Still flustered, his voice trailed off.

"So I'll give you the bowdlerised version, shall I?"

"Hmm, yeah, I guess." _What the hell does that mean?_

Thomas laughed as they headed for the door.

"Fine. Tonight it is."

They went their separate ways once inside. Jimmy quickly found Molesley and the awaiting silver. As he sat polishing what seemed to be an unending array, his mind wandered to the letters. _I wonder what's in them. He must have had a couple of dozen since he got back and I guess he will have written as many. What could they find to talk about? He only knew this man for a month or so at the most and he writes that much._ A sudden realisation hit him. _What if he's planning something? What if he's going to leave and go to America? Or if this ... this person, is going to come to live here?_ Jimmy suddenly felt his neat little world start to crumble. His friendship with Thomas had become much more important than he had planned. _'I want to find you happy and healthy'_ No one but Thomas had bothered caring about how he felt in a long time.

"James."

Startled, Jimmy looked up.

"I already polished that piece."

"Sorry, Mr. Molesley." As he reached over to put the tureen back with the clean pieces, his sleeve caught the can of silver polish, tipping it and sending the contents spilling along the table, some of it dripping into his lap. "Damn."

Joseph Molesley stifled a friendly chuckle as he shook his head.

"You're really not here today are you? Better go change before Mr. Carson sees you."

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

As he trudged up the stairs to his room he fumed. _Look at the mess I'm in because of those letters. And I don't even know what's in them._ Walking down the hall towards his room, he paused at Thomas's door. _I wonder if ..._ He shook his head. _I shouldn't. They're private._ Yet his hand was on the doorknob and he was in the room before he realised it. He stood for a moment, reconsidering. _This is mad. Where do I even look?_ He had been in Thomas's room before, so he quickly assumed the only logical places were the dresser and the small chest on top of it. _If I were Thomas, they'd be in the chest._ Crossing to the dresser, he tried the lid. _Locked. Oh well, in for a penny ..._ Bending down, he began to search the drawers, careful not to disturb the clothing. _Nothing. I wonder if the key for that chest is around._ Suddenly he stopped. _What the hell am I doing? How would I feel if Thomas did this to me?_

As he turned to leave, he spotted an envelope peeking out from a book on the small table beside the bed. _I really can't be that lucky, can I?_ He walked over, then paused before reaching down and picking it up. _Just so I know what I'm dealing with_ , he justified to himself. He wanted to take it with him, but he was certain Thomas would notice it missing, so he took a chance and sat on the arm of the chair, pulling out the letter. It was from a month ago.

> Dear Thomas,  
>  Or do you want me to call you Tommy boy again? _Tommy boy? What the hell?_ Remember the first night when I said that? I thought you were going to have a fit. It seems, though, you got over it as soon as you saw where it was leading. _Leading?_ Any time I called you Tommy boy after that I could count on a reaction - a good reaction.
> 
> I'm a bit disappointed though that I haven't heard from you in a while. _Ah, that's worth knowing._ I thought we agreed we would keep writing no matter what. Well, it won't stop me, particularly since I have a surprise which I think you will like. I'm coming to England on business for a few weeks at the end of the month. I know it may be a bit short notice, it was for me too, but I hoped you might be able to come to London and show me around. _Odd. That's next week and Thomas hasn't talked about taking time off._ I'm particularly interested in that club you mentioned. Sounds like a place we would both enjoy. Birds of a feather and all that. _What's this about a club? When would he go to a club? He hasn't been to London in a long time. Has he?_  
> 

The letter went on for a few pages, but Jimmy had read enough to tell him what he wanted. He glanced at the end.

> Love, Stuart   _Love?_

He folded it back into the envelope and made a quick exit, heading to his own room. As he changed he pieced together what he thought he knew. _Obviously this Stuart and Thomas are more than friends._ He realised what that implied, but chose not to pursue that for the moment. _But Thomas hasn't been as reliable at writing as he should have been. Good. Still, he's going to London to see him. Or is he? And if he goes what does that mean?_

He closed his bedroom door behind him and hurried down the stairs. _I can't compete with someone who will give him ... well, give him more than I have. Why am I worrying though? He's only going to be here a few weeks, Thomas might get to see him once, then he'll be gone and Thomas will be mine again._ That thought pulled him up short and he had to grab the handrail to stop from stumbling forward. _That's absurd. He's not mine. Not in that way at least. Shit! Reading that letter made things worse._

He re-entered the room where Molesley was still busy polishing away. "Sorry, it took me longer than I thought. I had to mop at the spot so it wouldn't set." _Should have done that._

"That's all right, James." Molesley waved his hand at the silverware that still needed to be done. "I saved you some. I couldn't have all the fun, could I?"

Jimmy picked up his cloth and began to tackle a large candelabra. _Fuck Thomas and his letters from America._


	2. Chapter 2

  
Jimmy couldn't believe his luck when Mr. Carson announced that family was going to have an early night and that the footmen wouldn't be needed after they had served at dinner. But he wasn't so happy when he heard that Thomas would have to stay behind until everyone had gone up. From the look on Thomas's face he could tell that wasn't sitting well with him either. He stopped as they passed in the hallway on his way upstairs with the pudding.

"Rotten luck. I thought maybe we would both get away early."

"Well, as you so neatly pointed out earlier - the trials of being an under-butler. Still I expect I won't be as late as most nights. Good thing too because I'm tired."

"I can still come by tonight, though? I mean so you can tell me about New York," Jimmy asked anxiously.

"Of course. I just want to get my feet up. You know me, never too tired to talk."

"Good." Jimmy flashed him his best smile. "Because I ..."

"James," Mrs. Patmore called from the kitchen doorway, "that pudding isn't going to eat itself."

"Right. Sorry Mrs. Patmore."

She shook her head as she watched him hurry down the hallway, then looked up at Thomas as he passed her.

"That boy is at sixes and sevens today. It was far worse when you were away though."

"Really? How so?" The idea that his absence had somehow upset Jimmy was intriguing.

"Half the time he seemed to be walking around in a dream and the other half scowling at the maids or the hall boys. He made Ivy cry once and I almost boxed his ears. A couple of times I thought Mr. Carson was going to pick him up by the shoulders and give him a good shake." She started to leave, but stopped, turning back to him. "The funny thing was when he got your letter it changed everything. He became Mr. Merry Sunshine for a while. What on earth did you say to him?"

Thomas couldn't immediately think of what he had put in the letter. "Honestly, I don't remember. Probably nothing of consequence."

"Well," she shrugged as she wiped her hands on her apron, "it was as if he was pining for you because it made the difference."

_Really?_ "Oh, I highly doubt that Mrs. Patmore."

She gave him an odd look.

"No," she agreed, "I suppose not, not after ..." She caught herself just as she was about to stray into unwelcome territory. "Things to do. I can't stand about chin-wagging." She shambled away, leaving Thomas to wonder as he mounted the stairs about what he had written.

It finally occurred to him as he was approaching the library. He had told Jimmy he was sorry he wasn't there so he could share the adventure. _Did I really say that? Adventure? A bit strong. Still it would have been nice for both of us. And then I come back and don't tell him anything. Some friend I am. Well, I'll correct that tonight. Just need to be careful about some of the things._ The image of Stuart standing naked in the moonlight by an open window flashed into his mind. _Very careful._ He entered the library taking his place near the rear. _Still, I wonder why he didn't say anything before today._ Carson caught his eye, motioning that he was to check everyone's glasses and he began his circuit of the room.

\---

Jimmy took off his jacket and vest, hanging them in the wardrobe, then undid his tie, letting it hang loosely around his neck. _I wonder what I should wear?_ The thought startled him. _We usually just sit in our undershirts and trousers why would tonight be any different?_ He looked in the mirror, then picked up one of his brushes to push his hair back. _Damn, it still wants to fall down across my forehead. Maybe I need more pomade._ Instead, he changed his mind and ran his fingers through the front, dragging the wave back to where it obviously wanted to be. _Thomas can be the neat one for us both._ Pulling off his shirt, he tossed it onto his bed and sat down in his chair to kick off his shoes. Stretching out his feet he wiggled his toes in relief. _I know what Thomas means about needing to get his feet up._

Glancing around the room, he suddenly remembered the unopened bottle of whiskey he had bought a few weeks ago and the two glasses he had borrowed earlier in the day. They usually didn't have anything to drink the nights they got together - his birthday had been the last time - but he had decided that tonight he at least would need something. He also remembered that after a few drinks Thomas loosened up. _That can only be a good thing tonight. Particularly if I want to know about Stuart._ He stood up and went to his wardrobe, digging out the bottle from the back. _And I most definitely want to know about him._ He couldn't shake the unease that reading the letter had caused. It was foolish to think that he could be Thomas's only friend and it was something that had never occurred to him before, but somehow he felt threatened by this unknown relationship, desperately wanting to be assured of his importance.

He looked at the bottle, then broke the seal, pouring himself about half an inch of the whiskey. _Just a small one,_ he thought as settled back into his chair and drained the glass. By the time Thomas rapped on his door to let him know he was up for the night, he had managed to down two more not-so-small ones.

"Just give me a couple of minutes, Jimmy, then come over."

"All right." But instead he didn't wait. Bottle and glasses in hand he followed almost immediately, entering Thomas's room before he had a chance to close the door.

"Look what I brought," he announced, waving the bottle in the air as he placed the glasses on the side table next to Thomas's armchair. "I can sit here, right?" he asked, not waiting for an answer as he dropped down.

"Make yourself at home, I guess."

Jimmy grinned up at him.

"You're so hopsit .... hospitable. Let me return the favour," he offered, pouring two drinks and holding one out to him. Thomas took a sip before setting the glass down so he could get out of his livery.

"So what's the occasion?"

Jimmy watched as the layers of clothing came off and the suspenders dropped to his sides so he could get to his shirt.

"Nothing. Can't friends have a drink together?"

"Yes, but it appears you started without me."

"I can't help it," Jimmy spoke into his glass, "if you were busy with your under-butlering. Under-buttling?" Jimmy took a drink, then suddenly looked puzzled. "What do I do? Footmaning?"

Thomas laughed as picked up his glass and sat down on the bed, toeing off his shoes.

"Tonight let's just say you'll be entertaining."

"Good. Wouldn't want your friend to be boring would you." Jimmy settled back into the chair, eying Thomas over the rim of his glass. "And speaking of friends, what about New York and whatshisname?"

Thomas pursed his lips and frowned.

"There was more to New York than Stuart. Museums, Central Park, the Statue of Liberty, Broadway . You would like Broadway. We saw ..."

"Yeah, yeah. Things. Things aren't exciting. People and what people do are." Jimmy rested the glass against his chin. "So, Stuart. That's his name?"

"Yes. But I don't see ..."

"So what did you and Stuart do?"

Thomas looked confused. "I thought you wanted to hear about New York."

"I do. But he was in New York, right?"

Thomas nodded.

"And you did things together."

"Yes."

"So if you tell me then you're telling me about New York." Jimmy smiled slightly, raising the glass so it wouldn't be too obvious. _I handled that well._

Thomas set his glass down on his night stand and leant forward.

"What the hell is this all about, Jimmy?"

_Or perhaps not._ "New York. Your adventures in New York."

"Seems to me it's more about Stuart. Stuart and me. And that is really none of your business." He picked up his glass and drained it. "I can't see why you care. I mean the things I do are revolting aren't they?"

Thomas hadn't meant to say that. This was ground they had studiously avoided since they became friends. And yet deep down, Jimmy's reaction to the kiss, but more particularly the hell be put him through afterwards, still rankled, still hurt. He really didn't know what Jimmy thought, but he knew what others whispered when they didn't know he could hear, even those who tolerated him. So he assumed Jimmy felt the same way.

"I never said that. I would never say that about you." Jimmy looked like he was going to cry.

"What's going on then? It's about Stuart, but I don't understand ..."

"Are you going to leave?"

Thomas looked like he had been slapped.

"What? Leave? Leave where? Downton?"

"Yes." Jimmy paused as he took a deep breath. His voice when he spoke was like a hurt child's "No. Me. Leave me."

Thomas's face shifted to confusion. _Leave him?_

"Why would you think I'm going anywhere?"

Jimmy noticed he didn't exactly deny it.

"When he comes to London are you going to make plans to go away?"

"What? No. I'm not even ..." Thomas stopped as what Jimmy had said sank in. "How did you know Stuart's coming to London?"

_Oh shit!_


	3. Chapter 3

"Well?" Thomas demanded.

"I ..." Jimmy's mind raced, trying to find a reasonable explanation where none existed. "You ... You must have told me."

"What kind of idiot do you take me for? I only told you his name five minutes ago and I certainly didn't tell you he was coming to London." Thomas searched Jimmy's face, then suddenly jumped up from the bed. "You've been reading my mail!" He strode to the dresser and tried the lid of the chest. Finding it locked, he muttered in confusion. "But you couldn't have. I locked ..." Then he remembered. Returning to the bed, he picked up the book and pulled out the envelope. He turned to Jimmy in accusation.

"You sneaked into my room and read my letter. Why would you do that?"

"You're a fine one to talk," Jimmy retorted. "At least I didn't sneak in and kiss you in your sleep."

What he had said hit home quickly. Thomas sank onto the bed looking like someone had punched him in the stomach.

Jimmy tried to understand why he had said it. He wanted to blame Thomas's earlier "revolting" comment for stirring up long-forgotten memories, memories that he knew no longer meant anything. _I don't find that kiss revolting, not now._ Yet, he had still said it. He had lashed out without thinking, using the first thing that came to mind as a defense to escape Thomas's anger. Suddenly he felt sick.

Thomas stared at him blankly for a moment.

"You should leave." He wasn't angry at all, his voice was calm, devoid of feeling.

"Thomas, please, I don't know what got into me. I didn't mean it."

"It's Mr. Barrow, James." Thomas's eyes finally betrayed his pain, but neither his expression nor his voice changed. "You're always to call me Mr. Barrow. Now I would like you to leave my room."

Jimmy stood, grabbing for his hands. Thomas shook his head. "Don't." He pulled back as if his slightest touch would burn.

Jimmy felt his legs give way and he staggered back to grab the chair for support.

"Oh Christ, Thomas, please. Don't make me leave like this. I don't think I can stand having you hate me."

Thomas just shook his head. "I don't hate you, James. I'd have to care about you to hate you. And you've just shown me that I would be a fool to keep caring about someone who hides his contempt behind sham friendship."

Jimmy just looked at him, knowing that no matter what he might try to say it wouldn't make any difference. He bowed his head for a moment then stood straight and walked to the door. When he reached it he hesitated and turned to look at Thomas.

"You're not the fool, you know. I am. I've just hurt the only person who matters because I did something stupid and then said something cruel. There was no excuse for either. I hope one day you'll forgive me, but I'm not sure I can ever forgive myself." Closing his eyes, he forced back tears. "It was never a sham friendship, you know. It's real and it's a lot more than friendship. If you only knew how much more." He left without expecting a reply.

Thomas stared at the closed door, brooding about what had happened. He wasn't sure what hurt more, Jimmy's snooping into his private affairs or his bringing up the kiss. Although it wasn't long before he realised that the kiss - _that fucking kiss_ \- had been hovering in the background all along. It's wasn't Jimmy's problem, though, it was his. He knew that now because of the way he had overreacted to Jimmy's unvarnished, simple, statement of the truth. He  had sneaked in, just like some thief, not even having the nerve to ask. _If I was so sure, why didn't I wake him so we could actually share the kiss?_ After they became friends, Jimmy had accepted his apology, realising that they both had been hoodwinked by O'Brien and that, in a way, if only a small way, Thomas was a victim too.

He got up and poured himself a whiskey, pacing the room while he drank it. Now he knew he too had never forgiven himself, although like Jimmy, he still wasn't sure he deserved forgiveness either. The guilt of hurting Jimmy had just lain there, simmering. When Jimmy confronted him with it, rather than recognising it for what it was he had let the guilt take over, blowing everything out of proportion in an attempt to avoid it, making him treat Jimmy unfairly. _That's not quite right. Jimmy should never have gone through my things, but is it worth hurting him again? He had to have a reason. Maybe not a good one as far as I'm concerned, but I don't think he set out to harm me._ He sat in the armchair and drained his glass. _I need to get some sleep. Maybe tomorrow I can try to let him explain, let him apologise properly._

He got up and stripped off the rest of his clothes, climbing into bed without changing into pajamas. As he shut out the light it occurred to him that tomorrow might not be as easy as all that. When Jimmy closed that door perhaps it closed on their friendship as well. If so, it was his own fault because he certainly had made it sound as if that's what he wanted. As he drifted into sleep he wasn't sure if it would be possible to recover from that although he knew he had to try.

\---

Jimmy made it to his bedroom just in time to rush to his washbasin and be violently sick. He was afraid the sounds he was making would bring someone running to his door in a panic. Sinking to his knees, he clung to the sides of the stand, praying his stomach would settle enough for him to get to his bed. He gagged a few times as he knelt there, but eventually decided it was safe and hoisted himself up. Walking unsteadily, then grabbing the chair back as he passed, he finally was able to throw himself full length on top of the covers. He groaned and rolled over onto his back, clutching at his stomach as it roiled again. _I will not be sick. I will not be sick._ He wasn't sure why he thought that would work, but he was willing to give it a try. Once again his stomach eased, subsiding to a gurgle.

He turned on his side, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. What had started out as a promising evening had become a nightmare. _Why did I open my big mouth? If I had waited for the right time I could have found out. 'So, you obviously had a good time together All those places you visited. Think you'll ever see him again? Maybe go back to America for a visit?' It would have been so easy._ A quiet, bitter laugh caught in his throat. _Looks like I don't know how to handle easy._ He tucked his chin in tightly against his chest. _Then I bring up the kiss. Why the bloody kiss? That's all over and done with. It means nothing._

He sighed, knowing that wasn't true for Thomas obviously and finally having to admit it wasn't true for him either. Except Thomas had got it wrong. Or more correctly because he had said it wrong, Thomas could only hear it one way. When Thomas was in America he realised how much he meant to him. _Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Isn't that what they say?_ It was his dreams. _We did things in my dreams._

Even thinking about it now he could feel the heat rise to his face, but it wasn't the heat of embarrassment. All this worry about Thomas finding someone in America or Thomas leaving him or this Stuart coming to England had little to do with friendship. It was the threat of losing Thomas to someone else, to another man. He kept trying to convince himself that it wasn't that; even today he had tried, rationalising it once again as just friendship. But each time when he thought he had succeeded, out of nowhere the sight of Thomas leaning down to kiss him would suddenly flash through his mind, ripping apart his neatly constructed façade. Because this time he kissed back. He kissed back without a second thought, without being afraid.

Jimmy sat up. _Dreams are one thing. Reality is what matters and I don't think I can face it. How could I tell him, especially after what I've done today? That first kiss led to terrible things for him and that's what I chose to bring up tonight._ He got up and walked over to his dresser to stare at himself in the mirror. _I deserve to lose him. Not just for the snooping. That's bad enough, but he might just understand if he knew why. Maybe even forgive me. It's not that. I deserve to lose him because I'm a coward. I just want him to stay so I can be near him, but I don't want to tell him why._

Suddenly the months of keeping everything locked inside, of pretending that Thomas was just a friend and of denying what he wanted, overwhelmed him and he almost started to cry. _No! Fuck it! No! What good will crying do?_ He took a deep breath and released it, feeling it shudder through his lungs. Then another one. It was as if the breaths brought clarity. He knew exactly what he was going to do. Pushing away from the dresser he crossed the room and slipped into the hallway. He walked quietly to Thomas's door, turning the handle carefully, then silently entering the room, closing the door behind him. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could just make out Thomas lying on his side, facing away from him. Instead of waking him, he sat down in the armchair to wait.

He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew dawn had brought light to the room and he saw Thomas stir.

Thomas rolled over and opened his eyes.

"Jesus Christ, Jimmy!" he croaked as he bolted upright. "What are you doing here?"

"All I want is five minutes. If after that you still feel the same way, I'll leave Downton."

"Don't be ridiculous. Where would you go?"

"It doesn't matter. I'll just go." He waited for him to say something more, but when he didn't he went on. "So, can I have five minutes?"

Thomas nodded as he moved back against the headboard, pulling the sheets up around his chest.

"First, the letter. I should never have done it, and I don't know how to apologise enough. But I just had to know. You never talked about America, but you got all these letters. I guess I thought you were hiding something from me that you were never going to tell me. Then when I actually read that one, well ... You scared me, Thomas. I imagined the worst. That ..."

"That I was going to leave you? You said that last night, but I didn't understand. I still don't. If I ever left, we could still be friends. That wouldn't change."

"But you wouldn't be here. That's what scared me. Not being able to see you. You don't know how much I missed you when you were away. But I never told you. That's where I went wrong. Keeping secrets. That's one thing I'm good at."

Jimmy shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"But that's nothing compared to what I said about the kiss. At least to my mind it isn't. Especially since I could tell it hurt you even more."

Thomas interrupted. "Even after all this time, you still have every right to be upset."

"I'm not though. Don't you understand? That's the point. I'm not."

"But all the same, that's something you made me realise last night. I was so blinded by what I wanted, by what I was sure you wanted I just blundered on. You know I couldn't come out and ask you, it just wasn't done. Still isn't. But I could have taken a chance and woke you, especially since I was so sure you would want me to kiss you. None of what happened was your fault. Just me and my foolish hope."

"So," Jimmy asked tentatively, "does this mean we're going to get through this? Will we be friends again? Or do I have to pack?"

"I reacted badly, Jimmy, but to be fair you're right, everything you did and said hurt me. I let my guard down with you and it seemed betrayal was how you were repaying me." He shrugged. "But friends should make allowances for each other. Neither of us handled this very well." Thomas broke into a tight smile. "Not the first time I've messed up and probably not the last. Just so long as you know that."

"And you're not going to leave, are you?"

"Not even thinking about it."

"Good, you better not." Jimmy stood and walked over to the bed. "There's one other thing."

Thomas looked up, waiting for him to finish. "What?"

Jimmy leant down, taking his face in his hands, and kissed him. When he pulled back, Thomas's eyes were wide and his mouth was working, trying to form words.

Jimmy just grinned as he trailed his left hand down to rest against his shoulder while the fingers of his right skimmed along his jaw to his lips.

"That's something else we're going to have to talk about."

~~ End ~~


End file.
